


A Breeze in the Night - Coda

by LymneirianApparition



Series: Like a Breeze in the Night [5]
Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anal creampie, Brother/Sister Incest, Creampie, Elf Sex, Elves, F/F, F/M, Fingering, First Time, Half-Elves, Half-Sibling Incest, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Sibling Incest, Sylph - Freeform, Tribadism, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 06:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LymneirianApparition/pseuds/LymneirianApparition
Summary: The voyeur who witnessed Simoun and Drinma's first encounter has a story of his own. And what a sordid tale it is.





	A Breeze in the Night - Coda

A Breeze in the Night – Coda

It was a rude apartment in every sense of the word. Rude in the sense of being crude and shabby; rude in the sense that nothing polite happened here. Despite being on the third floor of a tenement building in one of Asp District's nastier neighborhoods, it could have been a nice set of rooms in which to live. Facing neither east nor west, it never caught the full glare of the sun, and the sky-blue plaster of the walls – flaking though it was – gave it an skyborne feel that belied its size. But it wasn't a room for living in. Although if Elves conceived more easily and randomly, life would have been procreated within it over a dozen times by now.

Neffren clutched at the arm rests of the chair in which he sat facing the room's only window. He could hear everything in the next room. She made sure of it. Two members of the Branch Sisterhood – Viridan and Chanae were the ones on duty tonight – stood guard outside the door making sure he remained a prisoner of the sounds. Either of the other people in the apartment could leave except him. His lot was to stay and hear every grunt, every orgasmic scream, fake or otherwise.

He couldn't hate the Branch guardswomen. They were just doing what Indridia told them. But could they not hear it all too? Why weren't they disgusted by it all? Not that Neffren had any right to say what should or shouldn't disgust anyone. He knew that too well. 

It hadn't always been like this. Once, not that long ago, he had just been a shy disappointment of a boy born of a Human warrior mother innocently going to meet his Elven father for the very first time.

He remembered slogging through an endless sea of green on the Mwangi Expanse. The grasses that rose above a man's head might have blocked the direct sun, but they trapped its heat and made all life within a feast for insects. He straggled behind his mother, slowing the entire party down but her refusing to have him anywhere else. It had been weeks but Neffren still struggled with and poured sweat in the heat while his mother strode on in her steel breastplate, cool as a cucumber. He could not remember ever having seen Naamae Kamastil break a sweat at any point in his life, and he had gone with her on countless adventures; always bogging her down, never acquiring his absentee father's skill with magic nor his mother's skill with a blade. Still, Naamae took it for granted that Neffren would one day join the Pathfinder society just like her and so he was made to follow, a constant disappointment.

Naamae neared fifty years of age but looked in her early thirties. Her thick auburn hair – worn in its usual tight braid around the crown of her head – bore precious few strands of white. By no means promiscuous, she knew she could have any man she wanted and took advantage of it without shame when the fancy took her. Neffren had always assumed that Iaeti, the Elf who sired him, had been another such liaison. A pleasant dalliance, but no one special. Therefore it had come as a surprise when a summons had come from him for mother and son to meet him and that Naamae – who showed deference to none save her Venture Captain – had obeyed so readily.

Not for the first time, Neffren brought that point up as they trudged through the endless grass.

_“I'm not obeying,”_ Naamae said, a little testily. “Our relationship is not about obeying. It wasn't then and it isn't now. But he runs one of the most prominent Elven settlements in Mwangi and he asked me to come not as a personal acquaintance, but as a Pathfinder. It would be rude for us not to.”

“And did he ask for me as a Pathfinder? He's certainly never asked for me before.”

“That,” she said loftily, “is what I am most curious to see.”

Transingir reared up so suddenly out of the savanna's grass that it almost seemed to ambush them. Rather than building their settlement deep in the woods as Elves north of the Inner Sea were wont to do, the people of Transingir had raised their home right where the jungle began, keeping the trees as an avenue of escape rather than as a bulwark against the world. Neffren supposed it made sense. Iaeti Maernarnith found humans fascinating and it seemed logical that he would thus keep their world accessible rather than hide away from it under acres of leaves. This was further attested by the architecture of the town; with dwellings built off the ground and into the trunks of magically-shaped trees in the manner of Elves, but artwork and motifs in the manner of the Mwangi tribes. Here and there, Neffren saw other Half-Elves with their skin tone a blend of the dark Mwangi and pale Transingirans. Neffren could not help but wonder what lives they led and how he would have turned out had he been raised here with others like himself.

He did not feel like he had thrived among Humans, constantly disappointing his robust and adventurous mother, that was for sure.

Like other Elves, these Mwangi inhabitants trained with weapons from birth and men and women alike frequently bore a thin sword on their hip or an unstrung longbow on their back. But what Neffren assumed to be the town guard were all women, clad in form-fitting armor and carrying polearms whose shafts sprouted curving, leaf-like blades in all directions below their central spearheads. 

“Elven branch spears,” his mother whispered in response to his inquiry. “Elves fight with speed and rapid, darting attacks. Those spears counter that: snagging and cutting foes who think to strike quickly and then retreat.”

Neffren saw nothing fleet about those awkward-looking spears, but the hard faces of the women who bore them bespoke utmost confidence in their use. “Seems like it would be a difficult weapon to master.”

“I would not care to try,” said Naamae in reply.

Looking back now, he realized that was when he first got a bad feeling about Transingir, because every weapon he had ever seen in his mother's hands – and there had been many – had been wielded with utmost ease.

Iaeti Maernarnith received them like a king receiving dignitaries. The chair of curving wood seemed a throne atop its dais and the white-haired Elf seemed more than regal in mien. His eyes – solid blue – shined with stars of an unseen cosmos. “Twenty years have been kind,” he said to Neffren's mother, who wore bore the marks of late middle age without a care.

“I wish I could say the same. You've aged terribly.” 

The Elf looked just barely her own age, but his white hair and crow's feet marked him as hundreds of years older, and he greeted her jibe with a laugh.

“My memory is still as sharp as your wit and your blade, Naamae. I told you I would send for my son when it was time and now that time has come. Is he here?”

Neffren stepped forward, uncertain how to act or what to say. Used to disappointment as he was, the look on his father's face did not surprise him. 

“So this is Neffren, is it? I thought he would be a warrior like his mother.”

Another mother might have listed her only child's many other fine qualities. But as Iaeti had observed, Naamae's blade was still sharp and all she said was, “No.”

Neffren might have withered in humiliation, crumpled to nothing while the grown-ups, as they fancied themselves, did the talking. But then a champion arrived.

A goddess.

How he had not seen her before, standing off to the side, Neffren did not know. Perhaps awe and terror of his newfound father had given him tunnel vision. But he saw her now and could see nothing else. Her silver gown left nothing to the imagination: indeed, it could barely even be called a gown of any kind, and her feet were totally bare. Her breasts might as well have been too. Not that she could be blamed for wanting to show them off, for Neffren had not even known it was possible for an Elven woman to grow breasts that large. But if her body was beautiful, her face was a message from the Celestials themselves: a poem in alabaster set beneath a fringe of shimmering, coal-black hair that went on to fall past her shoulders. Its ebony sheen made a perfect compliment to the purple of her eyes, as star-filled as the man to whom she now spoke.

“Do not assume or presume so much, father. One who knows how to see can easily discern that this man – your son – has hidden depths. Keen swordsmen come and go, and are cut down by the score. But a keen mind, that is where battles are won, is it not?”

“Neffren's a fine lad,” Naamae said. “But he's not winning any battles.”

The Elven woman eyed her coolly. “Lucky for you. Try not to be on the other side when he decides to start.”

Iaeti curbed hostilities between the two women before they could start. He rose and placed an arm around the girl's bare shoulders. “My daughter, Indridia. It is fortuitous that she and her brother should meet just now, seeing as how she just celebrated her one-hundred and twenty-first birthday this past week.”

The two Elf nobles descended the steps of the dais together and the four of them stood together as a family for the first time. “Is that all you brought us here for?” Naamae asked suspciously. “To celebrate your daughter's birthday?”

“Hardly. I always planned to bring my son into my enterprises once he came of age. The fact that his half-sister comes of age at the same time is but a happy coincidence. I have so much to tell you, Naamae, and you, Neffren, my son. Come, let us discuss it over dinner which should be ready even now.”

The two ex-lovers walked side by side, conversing, and Neffren fell in beside Indridia behind them. Unseen by the ruler and the human warrior, Indridia took Neffren's hand and squeezed it just for a moment. It was a gesture full of reassurance, of kindness. He met her eyes and saw understanding there. _Our parents use us,_ her eyes said. _But you are not alone here. I am on your side._

Since leaving Absalom, Neffren had looked forward to nothing and that did not change. But now he felt infinitely better for having Indridia there.

The meal went by like a fever dream. Other Elves of Iati's court were there and Neffren immediately forgot their names. Iaeti had heard of Neffren's aptitude with the Osirion language and religion and as it so happened, he had need of an Osirioni scholar: one he could trust. Something about an artifact called the Pointed Claw of Pakhet. Naamae, delighted that her son's scholarly ways had not proven useless after all, listened intently. Neffren tried not to be indignant that the father who had let nineteen years pass without seeing him now suddenly needed him so much. But it was hard to be angry with Indridia right there seated beside him. 

Indridia frequently whispered in her half-brother's ear, outlining their father's true motives while he droned on, oblivious and unhearing. She sat with her right foot folded under her thigh and her bare toes frequently brushed Neffren's leg. She flexed them against his skin intentionally; affectionately, and Neffren could not keep her blood relation grounded in his mind on account of how warm those toes felt. The more she spoke and whispered, the greater his lethargy became and he answered his father's statements and inquiries automatically, yet somehow satisfactorily. 

Finally, after five interminable courses the dinner ended. Taking advantage of the distraction of everyone getting up, Indridia produced a pink silk handkerchief from the depths of her considerable cleavage and pressed it into Neffren's hands. Its smell – equal parts her sweat and her perfume – assailed him while she tickled his ear with a whisper.

_“Think of me,”_ she said.

Later, Neffren found himself in a comfortable canopy bed sculpted of living wood in a large bedroom with entirely too much privacy. Even laying barechested and clutching the handkerchief, he resisted. Smelling her body, he resisted. But he could only resist for so long.

It wasn't _fair._ Why did she have to be his _sister?_ Overshadowed all his life by his intimidating mother, he didn't know how to talk to women. They intimidated him as much as she did. This one was kind; showed an interest in him, had seen immediately his intellect and ability and she was his own _blood!_ No one had ever told him before today that he even _had_ a sister. Given Naamae's lack of surprise during their introduction she had to have known. For having been complete strangers until tonight she may as well not even be related to him at all...

Alright then. She wouldn't be related to him. Not in his imagination where no harm could be done. She would be just another woman. Gods knew, he had done this before, thinking of so many others. But Indridia was different. _Better._ And he couldn't not do this, but he would only do it once. Just once and then nevermore. 

Since it would be the only time, Neffren made the most of it. He masturbated for the better part of an hour, taking his time with his imagined scenario of him and Indridia. He did more than just imagine making use of every hole that her body possessed, but imagined truly pleasuring her, making her feel good in every way that a woman can, or so he had heard. It became a game of seeing how much edging he could do, stroking himself nearly to orgasm and then backing off, smelling that stinking, pungent handkerchief the entire time.

He had the cloth wrapped tightly around his member and was ready to soak it with his sperm when a voice issued from the shadows of his room.

“Oh, don't waste it!”

Neffren tensed, his release forgotten. “Who's there?” he cried meekly to the darkness. But he already knew. Indridia's bare feet were soundless upon the wooden floor, but her outfit gleamed in the low-light vision all Half-Elves possessed: a silver-clad Succubus. How could he have not seen her there before? Had she been in the room the entire time, watching?

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” he whimpered as she sat down beside him on the bed. The handkerchief that had been about to catch his cum remained swaddled around his phallus, now as a layer of modesty. “You're not supposed to be here! I was--”

“You were playing with yourself,” she said, musically. Her fingers slid ever so delicately across his fabric-shrouded penis, and it responded vehemently to the slight touch. “Why do you pull away? It's nothing to be ashamed of. Masturbation isn't shameful or a sin. As we left dinner I asked you to think of me and here you are: thinking of me. You're doing what I asked you to do. That makes you a good friend.”

“I'm not your friend. You're my sister. You shouldn't be here.”

_“Half_ -sister,” she corrected. “Whom you've never met until today. You didn't even know I _existed_ until today. But I have existed, for ever a hundred years before you were even born. Two Human lifetimes. We are strangers who share a father, who is himself a stranger to you. We are nothing to each other. Except man...”

She undid a catch on the side of her dress. Her right breast slid out into view.

“...And woman.”

Another catch, and then the left. Her breasts hung there, plain to see, and her radiant face smiling above them as though it were all the most normal and natural thing for anyone to do.

“Touch them.”

When he hesitated, Indridia took his hand and pressed it to her right breast.

_“Touch them.”_

He squeezed the soft, fatty globe, unbelieving at his permission to do so. Her hand coaxed his thumb to swirl the nipple beneath it, feeling it grow even firmer beneath his touch. Soon his right hand mirrored his movements upon the left, but Indridia had to lean over him for that to be possible. She took advantage of his compromised position to lift her handkerchief away from his fully-erect cock. Her violet eyes widened in sincere admiration.

“I like it! You are long like an Elf but thick like a Human! Amazing!”

She ran approving fingers over his smooth pubis. “But like us, you don't grow unsightly hair in intimate places. I like this too.”

She moved further so that her breasts now dangled directly over his eight hairless inches. Neffren's heart pounded at what he wanted. Indridia had manipulated this instinct and encouraged it accordingly. “Fuck them.”

“You're my sister.”

“You think no sister has ever leaned over her real brother who knows better and asked him to fuck her breasts in the night? We are strangers. Consenting strangers. Fuck them.”

Neffren stood his cock up between those big, swinging tits and wrapped it up in them until it disappeared. Indridia let him rhythmically swirl them over his member as long as he wanted to. He edged again. He was not ready to ejaculate between them but he certainly could have at any moment he had wanted to.

“You've never fucked a woman's breasts before, have you?”

“No.”

“Have you ever fucked any part of a woman?”

This time his answer was more hesitant. Ashamed. “No.”

Indridia crawled up his body until their lips were a hair's breadth apart. “Have you ever even just done this?”

They kissed, and it was everything Neffren wanted it to be. And through her lips on his he could feel Indridia wanting more.

“You don't have to answer,” she whispered when she finally pulled away. “It doesn't matter that it is your first kiss. It only matters that it is ours.”

She stood up and released further bindings on her dangling dress so that the skirt half loosened and fell off her curving hips. She stood there for a while, statuesque, letting her body have its full effect upon him. When Indridia finally moved, it was to mount the bed; to mount him. Her slim arms carried deceptive strength that anchored her body to his, and the hairless cleft between her legs opened and took him inside as though made just for him. He had imagined what a woman must feel like thousands of times, but he had not imagined _her,_ so infernally wet and unbearably tight! He was in danger. He was going to--

_“Don't cum inside me!”_ she whispered in a tone that made every part of him pause and heed her commanding voice. 

“Why not?” He pleaded in frustration, even as the tiny, frantic voice in the back of his soul screamed at him, _Because she's your SISTER!_

But Indridia remained strident in her refusal to acknowledge them as such in that moment. Not in so many words. “Because we have been used. Because our parents don't care about us and we only have each other. We need this, and we need it to last, and last, and last.

“I was in your room before you got here. I'm afraid I used Invisibility spells to evade your notice. I watched you the whole time you were thinking of me, watched you stroke that big dick that I now feel inside of me. So I know you can last. I want you to last for me.”

The midnight curtain of her hair soothed and aroused him as she lay her head upon his shoulder. “Please last for me.”

So he lasted for her, some how managing not to cum as she impaled her lean Elven body down upon his eight inch member again and again and again. A slow stripping of his virginity, by a cunt that tightly resisted him, yet took him so fully every time. And every time she gasped a little more deeply, cried out a little more fully until finally the impossible happened and she was cumming on his dick. Neffren could not believe that he was making her feel good just the way he had daydreamed about, but the spasms he felt in her clasping pussy told him it was true. Indridia held him and rested her head upon his shoulder for a long time, then climbed off and began to suck his dick in gratitude.

“I have to taste myself on you,” she said with a smile as her tongue curled round his member. “I got you so wet!” Her tongue spiraled up to the tip of his organ where it pulled away a string of fluid. “And so salty right there! So much pre-cum. You were really holding back while you were inside me. Thank you. I can't wait to see all the cum you've been holding back. To feel it. But don't cum yet. Not while I'm sucking your dick. You will want to, and I will try to make you, but don't.”

The sweet-yet-potent music of her words stayed with him and curled around the base of his spine. _Don't._ She did not lie. She certainly did try to make him, but fortified by her commands Neffren was somehow able to resist until his woman _(your HALF-SISTER! Stop!)_ was on her back and ready to have him in her pussy again.

Neffren watched in awe as his member slid inside her, the corresponding organs of male and female doing just what nature had designed them to do. The skies did not open with thunder and fire. Booming voices did not sound from above to condemn them. Maybe Indridia was right and they were just two people, strangers before tonight, who were now friends and something more. To defy that nagging voice in his mind that said otherwise, he initiated his fucking of her by asking in a demanding tone, “May I cum in you yet?”

Her long fingers stroked the back of his neck her smile was aught but mischief. _“I'll tell you when.”_

I'll tell you when. It was good enough. He could obey that. Would obey. In the meantime he fucked her until she wished he would and he had her sopping wet pussy to use as proof.

But all along Indridia intended that wetness be used for something else. “So much honey! You have to _use_ it, Neffren! I want you to use it.”

“What do you mean?”

She nudged him away, rolled onto one side, and lifted her generous butt cheek with her hand to expose the tiny, tidy iris that hid beyond her pussy. “My ass, Neffren. Fuck my ass. You've got so much of my wet on you that it should work and you can just stick it right in.”

He could and he did. Neffren had always heard that women did not enjoy this; that the only ones who did it were whores needing money or those enduring it for their lovers' amusement. Indridia seemed to crave it, even though the agony on her face was real. She winced as each of his eight inches found its way inside. Repeatedly, he asked if she needed him to stop and repeatedly she ordered him not too. The once tiny opening that it seemed like nothing could over pass through now stretched to a frightening diameter around his engorged member. But he had fantasized of fucking all of her holes and now that he was, he would not do so in half measures. When Indridia yelled into the pillow one final command of _“Fuck me!”_ he did so without relent.

With her tortured sphincters fighting him with every thrust, the doubt in his soul finally came forward, although without much assertion. “You're my half-sister. This is wrong.”

But he did not stop fucking her ass and Indridia whimpered back to him. _“But it feels so right! I_ want _my brother's cum in my ass! I_ want _my brother's cum in my ass!”_

But he did not cum just yet. Not when her fingers had just started rubbing her clit in rapid circles. Not when her breathing had increased in a now familiar pattern. Only when, despite her obvious agony, did she cry out in the release of her body did Neffren finally submit to the release of his own. His shouts joined her own as his cock began to throb, and strain, and go painfully taught, before finally jerking wildly deep into her bowels where jet after jet of white cum washed into the darkness. When he finally, unwillingly, removed himself from his half-sister's bowels a pool of opaque semen as white as the midnight stars came with him.

_What have I done?_ His mind was recoiling in shock. _My sister just took my virginity!_

But her logic had already planted its weeds in the rocky garden of his mind. _You didn't even know you had a sister until today. A sister who is old enough to be your great-great-great grandmother. It makes it different. It's all different._

Indridia rolled over and nuzzled against his chest, heedless that she rolled right into the puddle of cum.

“Mmm. That was wonderful. I can't believe that I fucked my brother. But I have decided that I love being fucked by my brother and I am never going to believe that it is wrong.”

“You acted like me being your half-brother doesn't matter because of our difference in age and us never having met before.”

“It doesn't matter. Not really, save for the cursed fact that if we had a child it would likely be born wrong. For that reason, I fear I can never let you cum inside my pussy. I know you want to, but it can never be. Oh Neffren, it is hard for me too, for I love having my pussy cummed in beyond anything else. It is the one thing I want with you that I cannot have. But from this day forward, I do solemnly swear that my other openings will be yours to cum inside of and yours alone.”

She passed the night in his arms, him now a man. Neffren had thought her declaration had meant that she would be his and his alone, not just certain parts of her. But that was not to be. It was not what was happening in that sickly apartment right now where he sat, miserably waiting his turn while another man fucked her in the next room. Every sound that came through the walls was an insult. Every human cock she took – and night after night, in town after town it was rarely the same one twice – was a humiliation and a stain upon his soul. But he endured it because he loved her. Because their father had sent them to find the Claw and it was his only chance to prove himself. Because he had nowhere else to go and nowhere else that he wanted to.

Indridia was the moon of his world, stretching and pulling the tides of his desire as she waxed and waned, leaving him unspent and tumultuous as he strained to reach her but never quite could.

All he could do at moments like these was count the angry, hateful seconds while he sat nursing an angry, hateful erection, all for that moment when his sister would be his again, or as much his as she could be with a stranger's semen kept warm inside her.

Movement on a rooftop outside the window caught Neffren's eye, distracting him from his hate and misery. Curious, he got up and went to the window just in time to see a figure wrapped in a tattered cloak of some kind running to the edge of the roof of the building directly across the alley from his own. A second figure gave chase, but unseen by the first, cut across the roof diagonally and leaped off of it some distance ahead of the first figure a split second before the first figure leaped off as well.

To Neffren's surprise, they did not fall. They floated, drifting toward the ground like leaves. Neffren's Elven blood let him see them clearly in the twilight. Both were women: beautiful women with alabaster skin unblemished by the sun and complex, geometric tattoos swirling across every inch of bare skin. Neffren couldn't believe what he was seeing: Sylphs! The Genie-folk were so rare one rarely saw two of them at the same time.

For a moment, Neffren feared only one would leave the alley alive, for when the cloaked one saw the other woman had gotten ahead of her and blocked her way, she attacked with a whip produced from within the folds of her cloak. She lashed out with it, caught her opponent's ankle, and yanked it out from under her. The other woman recovered instantly, however, and reversed the attack, dragging her attacker across the alley and slamming her against its wall.

That was when things took an unexpected turn. The long-haired Sylph tore away the cloak to reveal the other woman to be of shorter hair and a few years younger. Rather than press the attack on her cornered foe, the long-haired woman grabbed her face and kissed her on the mouth. The girl, understandably shocked, didn't seem to know what to do at first, but then she relaxed in the other woman's arms and let her do what she wanted. What the older Sylph wanted was to passionately kiss her neck and play with her breasts, popping them out of the leather bustier that barely held them.

Neffren could only stare. He knew that some women did this. He _liked_ that some women did this. But he had never actually seen it. The closest he had come was during his stay in Transingir when he had seen two of Iaeti's female courtiers kissing each other on a couch in a secluded niche. Indridia, who had been with him, explained that it was relatively common for Elf women and men alike to find diversion with one another in order to pass the time. She did not say whether or not _she_ ever had or ever would, but watching the two women for just a few minutes got both of them so hot and bothered that they had to rush back to her apartment where she masturbated to climax while he pumped her asshole full of jism. But it also left him wondering if she had ever been with women and if she ever thought about them when she was with him, further embittering him with the idea that his dick alone was not good enough for her.

But these women were not Indridia. They were different. Free. As free as a breeze in the night. He envied them. He wanted them. Whatever mysterious game had brought them across the rooftops to find lust in this alley, he wanted to be a part of that too. Then the long-haired Sylph looked up at him, caught him dead in the eyes. She saw him seeing her, but Neffren couldn't move away. He could only stair back at the lesbian lovers, wanting. Envying.

To his surprise, the Sylph didn't seem to mind him watching at all. After whispering something to the other one, she moved her hand up underneath the girl's skirt. The short-haired girl spasmed as the other woman's fingers entered her and began to drive in and out of her furiously.

For weeks since meeting Indridia his mind had been intoxicated by their forbidden, dysfunctional love. He had forgotten what it was like even to think of another woman. When he slid his cock out of his trousers and began stroking it at the hedonistic sight against the alley wall it was like setting his own mind free. Those two women didn't care whom they loved or what they did. Why should he? And why should he be jealous of what two women could do together? They clearly liked him watching; liked sharing this with him. If only he had their power to float. He'd drift down from this window and join them. He'd replace those fingers in that girl's pussy with his big, meaty cock and show her what it really meant to get fucked. He wouldn't just shove the long-haired girl out of the way, though. She could finger her friend's clit while he fucked her to the moon and back. Or maybe he'd give the long-haired one some meat up her backside while she kept on fingering her friend just as she was.

There was so much they could do. So much they could be. If only he were not himself but somebody else.

The girls switched positions. The short-haired one straddled the other's thigh and began to grind against it; fucking her leg like an animal. It actually looked like it was working, too. She was getting off. Neffren didn't know that women could have sex with each other without using their fingers or mouths, but now that he saw it whole new vistas opened up within his deviant mind. The older Sylph looked up at him again, grinning; approving at how he pounded his meat for the two of them.

He didn't know anything about them but he liked them. Not just as unknown objects of lust, but for their freedom, their fearlessness. If only he had met them first and not Indridia. But he was going to cum for them and when he did he would be free. His mind would be clear. He would not belong to his wicked sister anymore.

He heard the bedroom door open. In a panic, Neffren put his cock away and ducked away from the window, standing in the corner of the room where no one would logically stand in an unnatural pose that concealed the tent pole in the front of his pants. Fortunately, the hulking Osirioni man did not spare a glance for the room, just loped to the front door and exited the apartment. He cringed as Indridia sauntered into the room, fully nude. All his lust redirected back into her.

“What are you doing there in the corner?” she asked. “Trying to listen through the wall as much as you could?”

“There was a fight in the alley,” he muttered. “I didn't want them to see me.”

“Good thinking,” she whispered, and something musical set things stirring – throbbing – in his mind and body. “We are on a mission, after all. Please come to the bed? I need you.”

Neffren tried to be angry. He really did. “He just gave you everything you need!”

But that throbbing. That musical, lyrical throbbing in his body and in her voice. “No one can give me what my half-brother can. I lived a century of loneliness, and then you were born to be with me.”

In the bedroom with its hideous, evil red wallpaper Indridia assumed the posture of a beast, her buttocks presented to him. A gift: a morsel; leavings from the mistress's table. He hated what Elven low-light vision let him see: her anus ready for her brother, her cunt limned with white from a stranger. He got behind her and his knee went down right in the wet spot left by what the man had done to her, and tried to convince himself she had not intended for it to happen.

He pressed the tip of his cock to her resistant opening, feeling himself sweat and pant, _needing_ to be somewhere – anywhere – else, but _belonging_ here. Only here. Forever.

Neffren blinked and found himself staring down at bluish white flesh inscribed from head to toe with curving, swooping blue lines like tattoos. Platinum waves of hair whipped over her shoulder and the older Sylph stared back at him. “I need you, Neffren.”

The younger Sylph's white, blue-lined arms twined round his chest and her breath tickled his ear as she pressed against him from behind. “I love you.”

The elder Sylph twitched her buttocks: an invitation he could not refuse. “I want my brother's cum in my ass!”

“What?”

A sheet of ebony hair whipped over her shoulder and Indridia stared back at him. “I said I need you, Neffren. I love you. I want my brother's cum in my ass!”

Which he gave her, as he had the night before and would on the next night that followed. As he would again and again: his slavery and his purpose in life.

Strange to think that a glimpse of two strange Sylph women cavorting in an alley had been Neffren's last, best chance at freedom. But he knew it had been. Now it was gone. Vanished, like a breeze in the night.

The End


End file.
